The practice of adapting plays to cinema is as old as cinema, itself. In fact, many of the earliest narrative films were nothing more than existing plays, which were staged in front of a stationary camera. Aside from the fact that these films weren't much to look at, the absence of sound in cinema's first thirty years made for an awkward marriage between the silent pictures and plays, which typically feature a lot of dialogue. Fortunately the adaptations got better, not just because of the addition of a soundtrack, but mostly because filmmakers learned to open them up to the scope that cinema allows for. After a century, we've come a long way from those first moving dioramas that were passed off as a new medium, enough that we can even forgive all the talky, visually static films of the '90s. So, when a movie comes along that bears more resemblance to a filmed play than to a film version of a play, I feel that I must call it out as being format-inappropriate.

Such is the case with my feelings on Jailbait, a mostly inactive, primarily single-scene waste of film (or, actually, digital memory, as it was shot on video) written and directed by the playwright Brett C. Leonard. Although not actually based on one of Leonard's plays, or on a play at all, Jailbait stinks of the theater, and would most certainly work better on the stage rather than on the big screen.

It takes place inside the prison cell inhabited by Jake (Stephen Adly Guirgis), a man serving a life-sentence for murdering his wife, and Randy (Michael Pitt), who is just beginning his 25-year term as the movie opens. The pair are quite the opposites, with Jake having intentionally committed his crime and making no apologies for it, and seeming completely content with his punishment, while Randy is a naive kid put away for smashing up a neighbor's car, which was his last straw in California's three-strikes-and-you're-out law.

While Randy spends his first few days with great unease, Jake attempts to make his new cell mate comfortable with friendly conversation, although his constant talking is obviously more to appease his own loneliness. Mostly Jake tries to get Randy to talk about sexual experiences, especially to exchange their personal worst encounter ever. Eventually, Randy is used to his fate and begins talking, finally confessing his own worst sex, as if it were the punch line to the movie because it pretty much serves as its (anti-) climax.

There is a good chance that Jailbait could function as a great deterrent for kids tempted toward committing a crime. Other movies and shows may do better to showcase the harshness and violence of prison, but in many ways they exploit the bad things, portraying them as almost an excitingly hardcore life. Jailbait perfectly presents the day-to-day monotony of actually sitting around in a cell, which is obviously less exciting to watch, but which is likely what a major portion of prison life feels like. Additionally, Leonard keeps the mention of rape and cell-mate homosexuality to subtle hints and references. It is fairly clear that Randy becomes the submissive companion to Jake, though the movie's lack of showing actual incidence keeps us from knowing for sure. The treatment of this assumed idea allows it to play more as our and Randy's paranoia than as confirmation of our cliched expectations.

The movie also does a good job of creating the claustrophobia of living in a cell, and the fact that Leonard's camera is not stationary and instead moves about inside the tiny space, is the only possible argument for why this story requires a cinematic format. But, presenting tight spaces is nearly as possible on the stage, and besides it is primarily Jake's obnoxious personality that does more to create an anxious mood within the setting. I must mention that there is one moment where the movie opens up to another scene, which involves a visit from Randy's guilt-ridden mother (Laila Robins), and it is actually a very welcome and moving distraction form the cell location, even if it feels a little unnecessary.

Jailbait apparently wants to be about the unpleasant experience of Randy's being in this place where he doesn't deserve to be. But for Leonard to really be attacking the three-strike law, it doesn't make sense that he allows the character to be so doltish. Aside from the obvious, that Randy was stupid enough to vandalize a car, on top of being careless with his marijuana use, for which he was arrested as his two prior strikes, he is unmistakably ill-equipped for life on the outside. As played by Pitt, who is easily making a career out of acting either dumb or vacant -- though Bernardo Bertolucci was able to get curious out of him, too -- Randy is unbelievably dense, almost to the point of seeming mentally handicapped in his obliviousness. Perhaps Leonard's argument would be that this kid should be cared for rather than punished, but even if so, he never achieves the impression that Randy is an innocent victim forced into the arms of the wicked by an unfair judicial system. Instead he gives us a simple interaction between two extremely different sorts of guilty personality.

Regardless of what Leonard meant for, though, is beside the point, because we can make up our own minds about Randy's situation. And even though it isn't exactly effective in presenting any real defense or food for thought, Leonard's skill at writing casual, believable exchanges of dialogue is what keeps Jailbait from being a complete waste of time. The undeniable truth, however, is that it is time better spend on the stage than on the screen.